


Heal Me (with your touch)

by syriala



Series: Deter Week 2019 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala/pseuds/syriala
Summary: Peter wasn’t a stranger to pain. It was part of being a werewolf, because healing almost instantly meant you were ready to accept a lot more pain than a normal human. And Peter wasn’t a whimp, either, so he usually bore the pain stoically, until his healing kicked in and took care of it.But this, this was different. And Peter didn't know what to do.





	Heal Me (with your touch)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Deter Week Day 3 - Scars. It came from a conversation at the discord server, though I only vaguely remember it. So if this was your idea, come forth and claim your gift!

Peter wasn’t a stranger to pain. It was part of being a werewolf, because healing almost instantly meant you were ready to accept a lot more pain than a normal human. And Peter wasn’t a whimp, either, so he usually bore the pain stoically, until his healing kicked in and took care of it.

But this, this was different.

His neck still felt like it was being slashed wide open, like Derek had just a moment ago raked his claws through Peter’s flesh. It felt like no time at all had passed, the pain still so acute and searing Peter had trouble staying concentrated most days, and he couldn’t explain it.

His neck was healed, there was no wound to be found, because the resurrection had restored his body to its intended state. It might have been psychological, but Peter had gone to a therapist who was in the know, had talked it over with her, had spend hours upon hours exploring his own mind with her help and it hadn’t helped a bit.

Months had passed by now, and still, Peter felt like his neck was a gaping, wide wound and there was no help in sight. He was certainly at his wits end.

Whenever he was alone, Peter had taken to covering his throat with one hand, thinking that if he could just trick his body into believing that there was nothing wrong with his throat the pain would stop, just for one quick moment, but it didn’t work.

Instead the touch burned, and pain jolted through him, as if Peter had laid his hand in a still open wound.

Now Peter understood why some people went mad with pain. He certainly wasn’t far away from plunging into insanity again. If he was out of his mind, maybe the pain wouldn’t register as much. It was a hope Peter clung to, because insanity seemed like the last inevitable step for him.

“-ter, are you even listening to me?” Derek asked, interrupting Peter’s thoughts, and Peter flinched hard, jostling the imaginary wound on his neck.

He couldn’t keep in the hiss of pain and Derek was at his side in an instant.

“Are you hurt?” he sharply asked, hands hovering unsurely over Peter’s body, clearly not knowing where it was safe to touch.

“Not really,” Peter forced out, still, always amazed that his vocal cords continued to work.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Derek wanted to know, and he took a deep breath, clearly scenting Peter. “You smell hurt,” he mutters then, raking his eyes over Peter’s body again, as if he could find the offending wound.

“I’m in pain, but I’m not hurt,” Peter tried to reassure Derek, because after all that laid behind them, he really hated to make him worry.

“As if that is any better. Tell me what happened,” Derek said, carefully resting a hand on Peter’s arm. He kept the touch light and easy, clearly worried that _this_ might be the place Peter was hurting.

But Peter wasn’t paying attention to Derek’s words, or his worry, because the moment Derek had made contact the pain had faded to a dull throbbing, still annoying and unmistakable _there_ , but for the first time in almost four months Peter could breathe again without the irrational fear that his neck would split wide open.

And more importantly, he could think again, no longer hindered by the cloud of _painpainpain_ in his head.

It was such a relief that he swayed forward, almost bumping into Derek, who clearly got the wrong idea, if his hurried attempt to sit Peter down somewhere was anything to go by.

“What is going on? Are you that weak?” he urgently asked, already grabbing for his phone, as if calling anyone from his mess of a pack could help with this.

“The pain stopped,” Peter whispered with awe, staring wide-eyed at Derek in his surprise.

“That’s good, right?” Derek wanted to know, straightening back up and taking his hand off Peter.

Instantly, the pain slammed into him again, his throat splitting open, and Peter gasped, convinced for a second that he couldn’t breathe, that he would die all over again.

“Peter!” Derek shouted, rushing forward and trying to pry Peter’s hands from his throat, where he was desperately trying to keep his flesh together, even though he knew that there was nothing physical wrong.

But as soon as Derek touched Peter, the pain receded again.

Peter took a deep breath, taking his hands away from his throat, but when Derek moved to take his hands off Peter, Peter quickly grabbed them.

“Don’t,” Peter imploringly said, squeezing Derek’s hands in his. “I don’t know what’s happening, but don’t let go.”

Derek frowned down at their connected hands, and Peter caught a whiff of longing and pain and confusion, before Derek locked it all down.

Peter stared with wide eyes at him, because maybe he wasn’t the only one who missed how they were before the fire.

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” Derek whispered, still not dragging his eyes away from their linked hands.

“It’s psychological, probably,” Peter started, and Derek threw him a disbelieving glare. “Really,” Peter defended himself. “I’ve even been to therapy because I thought it was psycho-somatic.”

“But it’s not?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t really know,” Peter admitted. “I just know that I am in constant pain, have been ever since the resurrection, really. The first time the pain changed, receded even, was when you touched me. Right now it’s barely something I notice when before I couldn’t even think it was so all-consuming,” Peter warily explained, careful to keep details of his pain and perceived injury out of it, because Derek would only blame himself.

“You think something with the resurrection went wrong?” Derek asked, briefly squeezing his fingers, and he seemed so honest, so earnestly concerned, that Peter couldn’t lie to him like he had intended to do.

“No, it’s not the resurrection,” Peter gently told him, and Derek frowned.

“Then what?”

“The pain is here,” Peter said, bringing their hands up, careful not to lose touch with Derek as he pointed at his throat.

Derek frowned in question, but it only lasted for a second. Peter could practically see how Derek made the connection in his head, because his eyes turned wide, his face blanched and he almost violently jerked away from Peter.

Not that Peter would let him.

“Derek,” he pleaded, but Derek shook his head.

“ _I_ did this to you!” Derek yelled, still trying to wrench his hands back from Peter’s, but Peter had always been stronger, alpha or not.

“And right now you’re easing the pain,” he said, shaking Derek’s hands once. “You touched me, and the pain dulled. I haven’t felt this good in months, Derek!”

“I caused you this pain in the first place.”

“No, Derek. Your attack was good, it killed me. I barely felt any pain then.”

Derek’s mouth twisted, his lips pressed together and a look on his face like he was a second away from crying.

“I _killed_ you.”

“And you did us all a favor with that,” Peter bluntly told him. “Especially me. I was so far gone, sweetheart, I barely even remembered that I love you. I didn’t want to go on like that.”

“But you’re in pain now,” Derek whispered, “because of what I did.”

“Right now I feel fine,” Peter gave back and raised their linked hands.

“But how long will that last?”

“I’m guessing as long as you touch me. If that is still something you want to do.”

Derek chuckled helplessly at that, and Peter had never seen anything as endearing as that.

“I never stopped wanting to do that,” he admitted, and Peter brought their hands up to kiss his knuckles. “But it’s really not practical, running around and trying to always stay in touch. Not that I don’t want to,” Derek was quick to add, and Peter smiled at him.

“I can live through the pain, if I know you will come back to me.”

“Always,” Derek immediately promised and leaned up to brush a kiss against Peter’s lips. “And I’m sorry for killing you.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Peter said, yet again, and this time it almost seemed like Derek believed him.

“How’s the pain now?” Derek asked after a moment of silence and Peter was startled to find that there wasn’t any pain at all.

“It’s gone,” he carefully said, afraid to hex it by voicing it, but the pain stayed gone.

“I’m going to take my hands back for a second, okay?” Derek asked but he waited until Peter nodded to stop touching him.

“How is it now?” he asked, and Peter tilted his head in consideration.

But there wasn’t even a twitch of pain.

“It’s gone,” he said again, surer this time and Derek regarded him for a few moments.

“You said it might be psychological, right?”

“Well, maybe.”

“What if it was? What if it stopped because we finally talked about it, cleared the air?”

It was as good a suggestion as any, so Peter nodded.

“That might be possible.” He waited for a beat before he continued on. “Does that mean you’re no longer going to touch me?”

He was aiming for a joke, but the moment the words left his mouth he could tell the joke fell flat.

“I wasn’t looking for a way out of this, Peter.”

“I know, darling,” Peter sighed and pulled Derek close to rest their foreheads together. “It just has been so long that I have trouble believing this.”

“Believe it. I love you. Have since I was around twelve. It’s not going to change any time soon,” Derek promised him.

Peter was kind of taken aback that it had been that long for Derek too.

“I love you, pup,” Peter breathed out, tilting his head just the tiniest bit, to bring their lips into contact again.

“I love you, too, in case that was still unclear,” Derek teasingly said and then surged forward before Peter could complain.

Peter had to hand it to him; it was a very effective way of ending an argument.


End file.
